Alpha Mate at the Gas Station

34. The nurse from the hospital

Dominic POV

For days, I couldn’t find my mate.

No scent.

No link.

No trace of her anywhere.

The moment the pack alarm finally came through—too late, always too late—I knew the truth I had been trying to deny. Shifting that night, believing she was safe because she was with me, because I had claimed her… that was my mistake.

I let my guard down.

I was wrong.

The land swallowed my rage as I ran it again and again, my wolf tearing through forests, fields, and roads until my muscles burned and my lungs screamed. Every place I searched came back empty, mocking me with silence.

No blood.

No struggle.

Nothing.

Just absence.

The bond should have screamed.

She should have called for me.

I should have felt her.

But there was nothing—only a hollow ache where my Luna should have been.

Each mile I ran only proved one thing more clearly: whoever took her knew exactly what they were doing. This wasn’t chaos. This was calculated. Clean. Precise.

And it meant she was still alive.

That was the only thing keeping my wolf from tearing the world apart.

I replayed every second in my head—the moment I turned away, the moment I thought the danger had passed, the moment I chose trust over vigilance. Alpha arrogance. Mate stupidity.

I failed her.

And until I found her, until I brought her home and broke whoever dared touch what was mine—

There would be no rest.

No mercy.

No forgiveness.

Only blood.

The damn vampires had taken my Luna on my own land.

On my territory.

That alone was a declaration of war.

She was hidden—carefully, deliberately—but unlike them, my pack had grown stronger with time. We weren’t scattered anymore. We weren’t weak. We were organized, trained, and relentless.

Every vampire responsible would pay.

Not imprisoned.

Not negotiated with.

Erased.

After they took her, any vampire found was killed on sight. No questions. No mercy. No hesitation. Their existence ended the moment they crossed into my lands. That was their punishment for what they had done to her.

I had allies now—many of them. As the new CEO of my father’s business, I had resources, reach, and power far beyond what I once held. Doors opened when I spoke. Calls were answered immediately. Favors were owed.

And I would use all of it.

But none of it mattered if I didn’t get her back.

Not one alliance.

Not one fortune.

Not one victory.

Nothing would ever replace my Thumper.

The image of her fainting replayed over and over in my head—her body giving out, her fear, the way I hadn’t seen it coming. I hated myself for it. Hated that I hadn’t helped her eat before. Hated that I’d shown her my wolf before her body and mind were ready to handle it.

That mistake would haunt me forever.

I ran until my muscles screamed and my wolf howled in frustration, the land blurring beneath my paws. Every second without her felt like a knife twisting deeper into my chest. Hopelessness crept in, dangerous and suffocating—

Until a link cut through it.

‘Alpha! My mate contacted me—she reached me through her cellphone. She knows where Luna Thumper is. Alpha, she’s asking to speak with you now. It’s urgent.’

At the sound of my Luna’s name, everything stopped.

I turned without hesitation, shifting direction and heading straight for the apartment complex beside the gas station where the young warrior stayed. Hope slammed into my chest so hard it nearly knocked the air from my lungs.

Someone knew.

And if there was even the smallest chance this led to her—

I would burn the world to get her back.

Arriving at the apartment complex, I wasn’t paying attention to anything except my destination.

That mistake almost cost me my life.

A car slammed into my wolf at full speed.

The impact sent me tumbling across the pavement. Pain exploded through my side, my ribs screaming as I rolled and finally skidded to a stop. For a moment the world tilted, sounds muffled, my vision burning at the edges.

I forced myself up, shaking my body hard until my senses snapped back into place. One rib was definitely cracked—maybe more—but pain was irrelevant now.

I growled low and deep.

The humans in the car froze in terror, eyes wide, faces drained of color as they stared at the massive wolf standing before them. I could smell their fear. Hear their hearts racing.

Every instinct screamed to attack.

To destroy the vehicle.

To punish the recklessness.

But Thumper mattered more.

Without another glance at them, I turned and limped toward the apartment complex, each step deliberate, controlled. Pack members spotted me immediately—doors opening, voices calling out—but I ignored them all.

I went straight for my warrior.

Entering the building, I began shifting mid-stride, bones cracking, fur retreating, pain flaring sharply as my body returned to human form. Someone shoved a pair of shorts into my hands without a word. I pulled them on just as I reached the apartment door and pushed inside.

Behind me, I heard the humans from the car rushing into the building, shouting in panic.

I didn’t even turn around.

I linked the pack members stationed in the complex without breaking stride.

‘Handle them. Keep them calm. No deaths unless necessary.’

My attention was needed elsewhere.

Inside the apartment, my focus narrowed to a single point.

My Luna.

Everything else—pain, chaos, consequences—could wait.

Entering the apartment, I found the human woman standing in her small kitchen, calmly serving herself food as if the world outside wasn’t on the brink of war.

“I can wait for you to finish,” I said tightly, forcing control into my voice, “but you need to understand something. I need to know if my mate is alive—and where she is.”

She didn’t sit down.

Instead, she reached into her purse and pulled out a thick folder, its edges worn, papers carefully organized. Turning toward me, she placed it directly into my hands, her expression grave, unflinching.

“Alpha, these documents need to go back to the hospital,” she said seriously. “But I brought them to you first so you could see what’s being done to her. I don’t agree with it—not one bit.”

My jaw tightened.

“The man who has her trapped is the CEO of the largest medical equipment provider in the States,” she continued. “He’s powerful. Wealthy. Connected. He’s not someone who backs down easily.”

Each word landed heavier than the last.

“Luckily,” she added, lowering her voice, “he has no idea I live here. I was assigned through my job. I had to use a plant to mask my boyfriend’s scent when I go back to work. And Alpha…” she hesitated, then said it anyway, “…I don’t think the man holding her is human.”

Silence stretched between us.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she finished, turning back toward the counter, “I’m going to eat while you read. What’s in there isn’t easy.”

I didn’t answer.

I took the folder and opened it.

And as I began to read, every instinct in my body sharpened, rage coiling tightly beneath my skin.

They weren’t just hiding her.

They were rewriting her reality.✅

It was the last page that destroyed me.

A single document. Clinical. Cold.

A miscarriage.

Two weeks and three days.

That was all the time she’d carried our child—conceived the night I marked her, the night I believed I was protecting her, binding her to safety.

My vision blurred.

I read it again.

And again.

As if repetition could undo it.

My knees gave out before I realized I was moving. I had to take a seat, the folder slipping lower in my hands as the weight of it crushed my chest.

I couldn’t breathe.

I hadn’t even known.

She hadn’t known.

Our child had existed quietly inside her while she was terrified, while she was being hunted, while I had been standing right there—alive, breathing, believing she was safe.

My hands shook.

Not with rage.

With grief.

A grief so sharp it hollowed me out, carved straight through bone and instinct and Alpha strength until there was nothing left but loss.

I bowed my head, pressing my forearm into my eyes, because crying felt useless—but my body did it anyway.

I had marked her to protect her.

And instead…

I had been too late.